


Warhammer 40K alternate: The Eldar Gambit

by Hatful_Hollow



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Horus Heresy, Imperium & Eldar cooperation, Inspired by an idea from a 4chan post, Noble-dark Imperium, Total ass-kicking, this is going to be a long story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24606343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatful_Hollow/pseuds/Hatful_Hollow
Summary: A few years before the historical Siege of Terra, the Farseer Eldrad Ulthran personally visits the Emperor of Mankind offering assistance against the Forces of Chaos and the traitor legions. As part of a dangerous and nigh impossible plan, Eldrad reveals to the Emperor a "vision" leading to only one possible future. The Death of the Chaos God, Slaanesh. With the fates of the two species forever intertwined, can both races work alongside each other?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	1. Prologue: A brief history of the Galaxy (read this first!)

**** **_A brief history of the galaxy_ **

In the days long since preceding the birth of mankind, a great and vast war of an unimaginable scale not seen before or since.  _ The Old Ones _ , a mysterious and extremely advanced cold-blooded alien race, has their very existence threatened by the emergence of undying Necrons and their virtually omnipotent tyrant Star-Gods, the C’tan. The C’tan and their insatiable hunger sought to devour all organic life in the galaxy and they found the old ones to be a delicious treat for their appetites.

To combat the C’tan, the eldest race harnessed their lofty scientific knowledge and the unlimited powers of the Warp to create a number of potent weapons to combat the C’tan and their Necron slaves. These “weapons” were the Krorks, 12-footed monstrous giants with immensely destructive physical strength and the lithe and supple Aeldari and their natural affinity to harness the destructive energies of the warp. Alongside the Webway, the Old Ones rallied their bio-weapons against the C’tan and their undying legions of steel in a catastrophic conflict known as the War in Heaven. 

As the war of heaven concluded, the galaxy was left in a smoldering ruin. The C’tan, although triumphant against the Old Ones, was soon toppled by their Necron slaves and shattered into shards imprisoned deep within special prisons in Tomb worlds. The Old Ones either left the galaxy or were devoured by malefic warp parasites known as Enslavers. The Krorks, without the wisdom and the genetic control of the Old Ones, grew feral and devolve into the race known as the Orks.  It was at this time, the Aeldari grew greatly in power. With the Necrons gone and their Krork cousins scattered, the Aeldari race would establish their foothold as the next masters of the Milky Way galaxy. Their faith in their forefathers, the Old Ones, would see their gestated souls elevate into warp into the gods that would one day become the Aeldari pantheon.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ The Children of Isha _

The Aeldari Empire, a vast interstellar empire that ruled nearly half the galaxy for millions of years since the War in Heaven. They conquered as they much as they could imagine, their technology and incredible foresight and divination allowing them the knowledge to surgically slaughter any threat to their dominion long before they realized they even had such a potential to threaten their power. Entire systems flourished with utopian grandeur and natural beauty as the Aeldari colonized every world and erected sublimely beautiful cities of sturdy _Wraithbone_. Stars lived and died by their whim, as their greatly advanced knowledge of any psychic abilities granted them both immortality and power to shape anything to their very desires.

As opposed to the Eldar of the 30th and 41st millenniums, the Aeldari were unified as race and had no need to flee and cower in their world ships known as Craftworlds. Under the authority of the Supreme Council of the Throneworld of Aeldalin, the Aeldari Empire preserved and expanded their dominion to the greatest extent they could do so. Amongst many advantages, it was only the Aeldari who held a monopoly over the massive galactic highway known as the Webway. The Warp having long since been unsuitable for travel, the Aeldari Empire used  _ their _ _Webway_ to travel to the furthest reaches of the galaxy with their expeditionary vessels, the Craftworlds. Their presence in the warp allowed them to reincarnate back to life whenever they perished, allowing them to experience the pleasures of life once more.

At the zenith of their power, almost every alien threat in the galaxy had been destroyed by them, the only beings mighty enough to oppose their power being the Krorks, however, they remain as barbaric and warlike as ever. They would later devolve into the modern-day Orks. They were easy to manipulate, often simply being made to fight each other by the machinations of Aeldari Farseers. The other lesser races, such as humanity were left alone, most being deemed as mere nuisances that pose no genuine threat to their power. By the time of humanity’s Dark Age of Technology, the Aeldari had grown to become a very self-indulgent and reluctant race. Alongside their hedonism, the Aeldari had become rather incompetent and lazy to a degree, often relying on their automate defenses and Wraith-constructs to protect their Empire for them. Long since convinced of their superiority, they arrogantly believed that the humans and their childish “Galactic Coalition” were only pathetic fools to try and oppose them.

With history as the judge, the Aeldari found themselves shitting their own pants during the forgotten  _ War of Reckoning _ when the Coalition’s fleets reached as far the Empire’s core-worlds, leaving thousands of worlds and countless Aeldari naval fleets in heaping ruins. Ultimately, the  _ War of Reckoning _ saw the Empire’s victory with the sudden and unexpected rise of the Cybernetic revolt that saw every Men of Iron launch an uprising against their human masters that would herald the age of strife. 

Unbeknownst to the Coalition, the revolt was the work of a cabal of Farseers and the awakening of the slumbering C’tan known as the “Void Dragon” deep in the bowels of Mars. The Void Dragon compromised the Coalition’s galaxy-wide Overmind network responsible for managing humanity’s automata and systematically began distorting every digitized soul in its systems. It is unknown how the Void Dragon’s rampage was put to stop, but nonetheless, humanity was devastated to cataclysmic proportions, with many surviving scientists having to regretfully destroy countless years of research and complete STC databases, lest any surviving trace of any deranged AIs return to devastate humanity once more. 

The sudden increase of warp storms also prevented interstellar travel, causing thousands of human worlds to crumble into anarchy or succumb to the predation of malevolent warp creatures. Once allied Xenos species turned against their former friends and enslaved or butchered them remorselessly. The Aeldari laughed at the lesser races’ attempt to dethrone them of their power, unaware and entirely blind to the approaching doom that was to engulf them entirely. This doom would arrive in the psychic scream heralding the birth of the Chaos God, Slaanesh, or _She-who-thirsts,_ in Eldar tongue.

Like the Old Ones that fell before them, the Aeldari race will never again achieve this pinnacle of interstellar supremacy. For now, they are a scattered, broken race and godless race without much of a home to call their own. The name Aeldari grew to be a tarnished title holding merit no longer fitting its broken descendants. For a while, the diminished “Eldar” dwelled amongst the tongues of surviving Craftworlders and the frugal Exodites. Aboard their Craftworlds, the distinguished  _ Asuryani _ Eldar would traverse the galaxy, fleeing the tendrils of insatiable Slaanesh and their shameful past. 

In time, they would develop the famed Infinity Circuits, to house the souls of their dead and flee the touch of hungry Slaanesh. Meanwhile, the pastoral Exodites live out their long lives in maiden worlds across the galaxy, rejecting any form of mechanical technology that ought to ease the burden of their livelihoods. They live rather peaceful lives, only waging war atop their tamed reptilian beasts when provoked by invaders or servants of She-who-thirsts.

Deep in the bowels of the Webway, the unrepentant pleasure cultists of the fallen Empire rebuild their society in the once glorious Webway mercantile city of Commorragh. The hedonistic noble houses squabble aimlessly over resources and control over the vast megacity, their vassals, and agents callously slitting throats and performing vile and debauched acts upon unsuspecting individuals. The depraved homunculi, arguably the worst of them all, commit unspeakable atrocities deep within their dark laboratories, uncaring about the constant infighting up above. So long as they can lengthen their lifespans by devouring the life essences of their unfortunate victims, they couldn’t care about anything at all. For them, no sensation too high or too low is beyond them, so long as Slaanesh never gets hold of their corrupted souls.

__

** _The rise of the Imperium of Man_ **

_ It is a time of legend and shining glory. After five-thousand years of strife and suffering, the Emperor of Mankind unites Terra ( known in ancient times as Earth) under the yoke of his immortal and benevolent rule. Through war and diplomacy, the Master of Mankind set his gaze upon the stars blinking in the canvas of the sky dreaming of one-day reclaiming humanity’s lost colonies under the banner of The Imperium. For Mankind to achieve its manifest destiny, the Emperor creates 20 mighty genetic “sons” who will serve as his greatest generals in the greatest undertaking in humanity’s history, The Great Crusade. These generals, called “Primarchs” are intellectually superior and mightier than any human being except for himself. It is from these mighty demi-gods that the Emperor’s mightiest warriors, the Space Marines, are to be made from. In a galaxy plagued by monstrous terrors beyond human understanding, the Legiones Astartes are to be humanity’s sword directed against these innumerable foes. They are the bulwark against terror, they are humanity’s greatest protectors and they shall know no fear. _

_ It was only through the immeasurable might of the Space Marine Legions and their mighty Primarchs that the Imperium conquered world after world, destroying any foe they faced with no mercy. One by one, the scattered worlds of Mankind would be absorbed into the Imperium as the lost children of Earth would suffer no more the horrors of the Old Night. _

_ The Emperor’s grand vision for humanity is bold and infinitely ambitious beyond comparison. However, beneath the veil of reality, an incredible and ancient evil lurks hidden. Scheming the doom of mankind and all life in the mortal life in the galaxy, the Dark Gods of Chaos kidnap the infant Primarchs from beneath a secret laboratory hidden deep within Terra’s moon. They scatter their gestation pods across the warp, abandoning them in specific worlds across the galaxy, in an effort to one day corrupt them into their own unholy image. _

_Without his sons, the Emperor had to frustratingly readjust plans for the Great Crusade, personally leading all of the twenty Space Marine Legions until they may one day be reunited with their respective Primarchs. As the Great Crusade pushed past into the wider galaxy, the Primarchs were discovered on their adoptive worlds and given the command to their respective legions after meeting their long lost Father._ _For 200 years the Great Crusade ushered in a period of prosperity and security for the majority of the human race under the wings of the Aquila. As the Space Marine Legions conquered system after system, it seems as if Mankind’s dominion over the galaxy reigns with any unfortunate Xenos race cast away or ultimately eradicated by the Imperium’s mighty armies. It seems humanity’s journey to the shining path was soon to be complete, with no living being able to prevent their ascension. Behind the ever-changing and turbulent tides of the Warp, the Dark gods orchestrate their incomprehensible schemes and unfathomably dark plans for the Anathema and his upstart Imperium. A war soon looms, threatening the final extinction of mankind…_

  
  


_ The Eldar are a broken race. Once boasting an Empire that ruled supreme for millions of years, their excessive and lustful indulgences of nightmarish depravity lead to the degeneration of their ancient society and the birth of their final doom, Slaanesh, the fourth god of the dark pantheon of Chaos. In the 30th millennium, most of the surviving Eldar drift aimlessly across the void aboard their Craftworlds or toil their lives of working at the fields of the sacred Maiden worlds. Peace was not temporary, however. Many of the Slaanesh’s servants slithered for every opportunity to claim as many Eldar souls to their patron deity as they could. They attacked every Craftworld trapped at the formation of the Eye of Terror that was once the heartland of the fallen Aeldari Empire. Slaaneshi daemonettes even went as far as to breach Webway portals to prey on helpless refugees taking refuge in that vast labyrinth. _

_ In those days, Craftworlds were small and filled by grief-stricken and unruly refugees who knew nothing of the Asuryani Paths and the discipline they were soon to bring to their shattered society. It was really a ghost of a previous civilization, unlike the grim days of the next eleven millennia. The Eldar had many enemies than friends back then. Apart from the tendrils of the eternally thirsty Slaanesh, they had to deal with numerous barbaric and ultra-violent Orcish Empires, the parasitism of the Rangda and Khrave and raids from their forsaken Drukhari kin. Each of those myriads of threats was easily engulfed by that posed by innumerable armies of the burgeoning Imperium of Man.  _

_ There were very few Eldar alive who could recall the already fragmentary events of the War of Reckoning that preceded the collapse of the previous human civilization. Many of them were convinced that humanity had already gone extinct or was forever crippled by the warp storms and alien races that plagued them for the past 5,000 years. They were appalled beyond belief that they would rise up again in such huge numbers to claim swathes of territory in their absence. Led by a mysterious golden figure calling himself the “Emperor of Mankind”, the armies of the Great Crusade conquered system after system, eradicating any alien race and liberating any enslaved humans that lived there. Spearheaded by the twenty Space Marine Legions and their god-like Primarchs, it was only a matter of time that they would set their gaze upon the remnants of Isha's children. _

_ Like their Drukhari kin, the Craftworlders made extra efforts to remain hidden from the Aquila’s ever-threatening gaze, only striking when the foe is most vulnerable and open to any form of attack. Unfortunately, many Craftworlds refused to adopt such measures or were goaded into defending the precious Maiden worlds they refused to surrender to the Imperium. Although the Eldar still proved themselves superior to the humans in terms of technological and psychic prowess, they were wrong to have underestimated the sheer might of the Space Marine Legions and their Primarchs. The Craftworld of Thuyela, still retaining some of the hubris from the former days of glory, believed that they could assault an Imperial explorator fleet with the utmost ease. They would later perish at the claws of the Space Wolves’ 4th Great Company, the Wolves scouring completely the Craftworld of any Xenos life. They would even proceed to destroy Thuyela’s Infinity circuit, ignorant of its dire purposes. They served a grim reminder to any alien that wishes to challenge the countless armies of Mankind. _

_ Others such as Mor-ioh’i, Tounoetar, and Magc’Sithraal would be destroyed utterly by the forces of the Imperium. For now, it would appear that humanity would be the galaxy’s next masters, reigning supreme underneath the guidance of its Emperor. However, towards the end of the 30th millennium of the Imperial Calendar, the Dark Gods and their unwitting pawns would begin their move against the only force in the materium that can ever pose a threat to them. _


	2. Interlude: Visions of Heresy

“It began with a vision. No, a dream of dark days to come,” said the tall man as he gazed out into the cold, starry void.

He wore a long deep purple robe adorned with sacred jewelry and garments painted with arcane runes of protection. He is slim and has a long black ponytail tied close to the scalp of his head. Like every other Eldar, his was a body that pronounced a slim, feline-grace that are characteristic of the Aeldari race .

“I saw a great and monstrous furred creature, with descriptions reminding me of what the humans call a ‘wolf’. It howled a deep and gut-wrenching call that summoned the rest of its “brethren”. Out came nine monstrosities over varying appearances and afflictions that tell me of corruption to the dark powers.”

The monstrosities in Eldrad’s mind were enough to perturb even his vastly disciplined mind, his hand clenching tightly as he speculated who these nine creatures might represent. And there was only one, terrifying conclusion that could be made from it.

“... The black wolf bared its fangs against a large, shining twin-headed bird of prey that descended to face the wretched creatures that entered his domain. It snarled, commanding the other eight monsters to pounce upon the avian creature. I’m sure you know who exactly I speak of, Autarch.” 

Eldrad then turns around to speak with the black-haired woman seated across him. She wears jet-black armor and a white sash bearing the Imperial insignia around her waist. He scowled at it slightly as he thought just how much it had bastardized the proud and ancient symbol of their race. Her slender arms lay leisurely on both laps, her attention fully directed at the Farseer. He gazed at the Imperial Aquila bearing a gem at the center with a hint of regret and partial distaste.

“The wolf is Warmaster Horus and the other eight creatures are the Primarchs of the warp touched legions. The bird is obviously the Emperor and the rest of the Imperium loyal to him. If I may ask, noble Farseer, what did the other eight monsters look like?”

Eldrad pauses for a moment as he tries to recall the obscure representations of the traitor Primarchs. Dreams, visions stemming from the chaotic tides of the warp are often blurry and require the toughest mental discipline to gaze through clearly. Eldrad happens to be one of the very individuals who could mostly see his visions as clear as day and recall them after awakening from meditation

“I... recall seeing a huge hulking giant with rotting armor with a large bloated fist blighted with a corona of corrosive energy decaying anything it touched. Its chest is… by Isha… a large bestial mouth with yellowish but pointed teeth spewing out a river of endless petrifying death, unlike anything I have ever seen. Attached to its back appears to be metallic hands, for whatever purpose they may have, they are sickly and rusted beyond usage. Lastly, a fecal-like hive of vicious insects dwelling within the confines of its rancid body, their stingers bringing endless doom upon any soul unfortunate enough to meet them.”

The Autarch nodded her head. “Do you know the identity of this plague-filled creature, noble Farseer?”

“It is the one humans called Ferrus Manus. I tried to speak with him once in a world named “Caldera”. He was quick to dismiss the visions I tried to warn him with, and reacted much like how his brother did; by scouring the world they were in.”

There was a brief silence in the room as Eldrad tried to brush off the grief and regret that he experienced from those days. He calmly sits his ancient body on the cushioned sofa adjacent to the woman.

“If it’s not too much to ask, Farseer Eldrad. The Horus Heresy… Just how horrible was it? I only know of the damage done upon a few Craftworlds by the tainted legions but Imperial records are mostly silent to the havoc done in human worlds. ”

Eldrad cleared his throat as he prepared what would be ten millennia worth of pain, suffering, and betrayal being lifted off his chest.

“Humanity? Hmph. Men, I must say, are weak. The Blood of Terra is all but spent, its pride and dignity have been forgotten. It is because of Mankind that Chaos thrives. I was there, Autarch, ten-thousand years ago. I was there the day the strength of men failed.”

Pre-heresy: Secrets & Lies

Ever since the dawn of the 30th Millennium, the vast armies of the Imperium’s Great Crusade conquered and reclaimed countless worlds in the name of the Imperium. The Legiones Astartes and the god-like Primarchs that lead them were at the forefront of the greatest undertaking in human history. With the technological prowess and might of the Martian Mechanicum’s blessed God-Machines and the numberless troops of the Imperial Army, there weren’t many foes that could prevent the Imperium’s dominance of the Milky Way Galaxy.

As thousands of lost human colonies and worlds were brought into Imperial Compliance, the lost children of Terra would finally know the end of the Old Night and the horrors that came with it. Xeno enslavers were eradicated, abominations, and rabid mutants were purged by the relentless and systematic onslaught of the Emperor’s armies. In those days, one would only need to look at the sky and awe at the great majesty of the vast fleets sent to reclaim the lost worlds of mankind. Guided by the golden light of the Astronomican, the wings of the Aquila spread out to the furthest depths of the galaxy, with untold vigor and hope. For now, there was nothing in the universe that could stop the Imperium of man from achieving its Manifest Destiny.

Towards the conclusion of the 30th Millennium, the Imperium would reach the zenith of its power at the conclusion of the Ullanor crusade that saw Horus, Primarch of the Luna Wolves Legion elevated to the rank of Warmaster. The Emperor of Mankind, having personally led the Imperium’s vast armies for over 200 years decided to return to Terra for reasons unknown to even the Primarchs themselves. For whatever reason, he decided that it would be best for his most favored and skilled son, Horus Lupercal, to be the Supreme Commander of the Great Crusade. The immense burden of conquering the galaxy for mankind would fall underneath his broad shoulders. While many saw it understandable that he returned to Terra after centuries of leading the crusade, many of his Primarchs and their legions were disgruntled by his sudden withdrawal or “abandonment” from the frontlines.

Unbeknownst to even the Emperor himself, one of his very own sons has already turned a traitor to his cause, swearing himself to the malevolent powers of Chaos. The razing of Monarchia, having a profoundly negative effect on the Urizen and the rest of his fanatically religious Legion with their goals and deeds no longer devoted to the Emperor’s dream. Lorgar of the Word Bearers smirked secretly, as he watched his “father” board his majestic golden flagship, The Bucephalus, and depart home for Terra.

Retribution for Monarchia is at hand! Soon, mankind will be ready for the Primordial Truth prepared for them by the Great Gods of the Warp! A glorious future awaits the human race, and no-one, not even that wretched Gulliman shall prevent it!

The Imperial Truth, the secular and atheistic tenets of the early Imperium, did arguably more harm than good. While it deprived some measure of power to the chaos gods, it did little to stem the influence and corruption that plague a majority of the traitor legions and their primarchs. If anything, it simply made humanity blind and apathetic to the hidden threat at large. A threat, which the Emperor refused to warn his sons of despite them having already showing subtle signs of the Dark Gods’ influence. It was a large gap in the Imperium’s armor that they used to ultimately drag it down to its knees.

For a while, the Great Crusade pushed even further underneath the direction of the Warmaster Horus, with dozens of lost human worlds brought into Imperial Compliance and several invaluable STC fragments recovered and given to Mechanicum forges. The Luna Wolves would later rename themselves as the “Sons of Horus” in order to celebrate their Primarch’s promotion to the status of Warmaster. They cast aside the moon-white colors of the Luna Wolves and adopted the pale, blueish green that was a favored color of most Chthonian Hive gangs.

It was at the rebellion of the recently conquered world of Davin, that Horus would be brought low by a sentient blade of Chaotic origins known as the “Anathme”. The blade easily bypassed Horus’ master-crafted Artificer armor and wound his very soul, puzzling many of the Legion’s best Apothecaries who were entirely ignorant of the nature of Horus’ wound. It was only after an esoteric ritual aided by the Chaplain of the Word Bearers that Horus was finally “healed” of his mysterious affliction. Erebus bellowed dark laughter as the final seed in his Lorgar’s plan has finally grown into fruition. 

The corruption of Horus’ legion had taken place long before the revolt of Davin primarily the influence of Lorgar’s first captain Kor Phaeron and the Dark Apostle Erebus who had spread the numerous so-called “Warrior lodges” that promoted dissent and sedition amongst the Sons of Horus. The lodges had also spread to other legions such as the Iron Hands and Emperor’s children primarily due to the actions of high ranking officers such as Gabriel Santar who would later be known as Santar the Harrower, the most favored servant of the Plague God.

Ferrus Manus’s corruption was closely paralleled to that of Fulgrim’s. Whereas Fulgrim found himself possessed by a daemonic entity in Laeran, the Plague God had long since set his sights on the Primarch long before he had landed on the world of Medusa. It was in that feral world so close to the Eye of Terror that the Primarch had unknowingly been corrupted by the Plague God’s touch, which would slightly explain the Iron Hands’ obsession with replacing their weak organic flesh with the numerous cybernetic grafts and bionics. The Primarch had also secretly refused to call Terra his homeworld and even disliked calling the Emperor his father. It was no surprise that Ferrus Manus would side with the Warmaster in the heresy after his brother Fulgrim had been sent to convince him to join his unspeakable cause.

With the Iron Hands, Emperor’s Children and World Eaters at his side, Horus would then begin the purge of all Loyalist elements of the respective Legions at the infamous world that later be known as Istvaan 3.

Chaos reigns

During the Istvaan 3 betrayal, Warmaster Horus initially planned to bombard his loyalist sons and cousins from orbit had it not been for Primarch Angron heading down to the planet’s surface to face them himself. Thanks to the last-minute warning of Emperor’s Children captain Saul Tarvitz, Horus’ massacre instead turned into an all-out war that cost the traitor legions a total of 60,000 Astartes. While war raged at the planet’s surface, an injured captain by the name of Ulrach Branthan remained aboard his vessel, the Sisypheum, with the rest of Clan-Company. Guarded closely by a rival clan captain by the name of Shadarak Meduson at the orders of First Captain Gabriel Santar, Ulrach wasn’t entirely aware of the betrayal about to take place until a house-serf by the name of Syd notified him of a shipment of virus bombs being loaded into the ships’ weapons array.

Ulrach and his quarry, Cadmus Tyro alongside a few other officers, would confront Meduson as to his plans regarding the virus bombs. Meduson told them that the time to “purge the weaklings within the Imperium” had come and that the Emperor had discarded their centuries of sacrifice and service by replacing the might of the legions with petty, shrewd mortal officials that would govern in their place. It would not take a genius to discern the Clan Captain’s words as that of treachery and as a result a fight broke out between Meduson’s men and those of Ulrach’s. It was only thanks to a well-timed blast from Syd’s plasma gun that prevented the traitor Iron Hand from killing his rival. Although the treasonous clan-captain would put down the house-serf, his malfunctioning bionic holding his bolt-pistol would accidentally fire upon a sealed virus bomb killing him and his men while Ulrach would reach safety behind tightly sealed blast doors.

With the Warmaster’s treachery revealed to them, the Sisypheum would then embark on its legendary voyage to Terra to warn the Emperor of his favored son’s betrayal. Aboard the capital ship, Vox Thanatos, First Captain Gabriel Santar ordered his crewmen to open fire at the Sisypheum as it made its daring escape from their former legion’s fleets. Unbeknownst to the first Captain, the Sisypheum was a highly modified strike cruiser that had been upgraded by the ship’s artificer Father Thamatica. It would easily slip past most of its surrounding vessels and evade the Vox Thanatos’ lance fire and ram through a strike cruiser before vanishing into the warp. Its success was crucial in warning the Emperor of his Warmaster’s rebellion.

Meanwhile, the bulk of loyalist forces of the Iron Hands, World Eaters, Sons of Horus, and Emperor’s Children had been saved from the cataclysmic virus bombing of Istvaan 3 that eradicated the entirety of its population along with that the very same rebels stirred by deep-rooted Chao cultists. With no options of escaping, the loyalists fought to the bitter end as they faced their former battle-brothers in overwhelmingly huge numbers. The most notable commanders of the conflict were the former Mournival Captains Garviel Loken and Tarik Torgaddon, Captain Saul Tarvitz of the Emperor’s Children, Iron Father Autek Mor, and Clan Cpt. Vaakal Desaan. The World Eaters also had commanders Ehrien and Shabaran Darr for their respective forces.

Deeply dug into their positions, the loyalists fought valiantly against the traitorous hordes of their former battle-brothers and the traitor Titan Legion Death’s Heads with the infamous Emperor class titan Dies Irae. It was in Istvaan 3 that the traitor legion’s corruption had begun to show their true colors. The World Eaters and Primarch Angron fought with a blind fury, hacking and tearing through any foe they came across with an insatiable thirst of blood. The traitor Iron Hands of Clan Garrask unleashed toxic machinery constructed from patterns of blasphemous Xeno technology, while the Emperor’s children began fighting with a sadistic degree of “perfection” that saw them mutilate and defile the loyalist dead with unspeakable depravity. Many of the Children were known to even “decorate” themselves with the organs and body parts of their fallen brethren, traitor or not. 

Unlike the other traitor legions, the Sons of Horus remained steeled and dedicated to their cause. They solely partook only in the slaughter of their loyalist kin with a proud and heartless, retaining the incredible tactical efficiency and martial prowess that made them the strongest of the Legiones Astartes. The Legionnaires of the 16th echoed the strategical and instinctual supremacy of their Primarch albeit now in a ruthless and unforgiving fashion as they successfully eliminated key command structures held by the Loyalist companies all the while ignoring the degeneracy plaguing their brother legions.

Despite all their efforts, the loyalists succumbed under the assaults of the traitors as numerous defensive positions collapsed. Iron Father Autek Mor would die fighting with his cold, unrelenting ferocity that could only be mirrored by fellow loyalist Sabhran Dar. Had it not been for the toxic weapons used by Clan Garrasak, Autek and the rest of his Clan would have undoubtedly wiped out the entirety of the traitorous forces of the Iron Hands.

The loyalist 10th company of the Emperor’s Children crumbled as they saw yet another betrayal from Captain Lucius who was deeply jealous of his former friend Tarvitz. He would then depart to his legion after slaying 33 of his battle-brothers but not before getting bested again by Tarvitz, who would sock him in the jaw.

Meanwhile, Loken and his friend Torgaddon would face their former Mournival brothers Ezekyle Abbadon and Horus Aximand. Ultimately this would see Torgaddon beheaded and Loken covered underneath a pile of rubble by a Titan’s bombing. Despite this defeat, Loken would emerge and fight again another day. The Fate of Saul Tarvitz is unknown, but many believed he perished in the final bombardment of the Choral palace alongside the Dreadnought Ancient Rylanor.

The traitors would then depart to Istvaan 5 to initiate the next phase of Horus’ plan in toppling the Emperor, leaving Istvaan 3 a dead and desolate world deprived of any trace of life.

Farseer of Ulthwe

It first came to Eldrad Ulthran in the form of a simple and vivid dream, some 200 years before the Heresy. The upstart human Imperium was to plunge in a massive civil war that will ultimately decide the fate of their race and the rest of the galaxy. He foresaw the Chaos Gods’ corruption of nine entire Space Marine Legions and their Primarchs. Such a terrifying dream was enough to even yank the young prodigy from sleep, and immediately sought the counsel of his mentor, Farseer Erulan. With the aid of psychically attuned runic stones, mentor and apprentice reviewed Eldrad’s dream in an attempt to gain more information. The experience was muddy and left both their minds in a foggy daze but the objective was accomplished. Horus, the Primarch of the Luna Wolves was to betray the Emperor and lead eight of his brothers down the path of ambition. 

The Seer council did not act immediately with this new information and like every other governing body that has ever existed, they debated. The council was utterly divided and unable to decide on a logical course of action. Some clearly expressed concealed intentions wishing to use this upcoming disaster into the Craftworlds’ favor, while some wished to prevent such a catastrophe. A scant few outright expressed motives that could be summedg up as “good riddance” while a scant few remained silent like their vanquished supreme deity during the War in Heaven. This debate lasted months and eventually a year before any sort of action was considered. Despite the passage of time, a central and very durable argument sustained within the halls of the Seer Council:

“Why should we assist in saving an inferior race hell-bent to wipe us all out?”

The long years of inactivity and the lack of a decision worried Eldrad tremendously. This was not how the council of Ulthwe did things, not especially when such a catastrophic event were to engulf the galaxy in endless tides of chaos. With every passing day, the tendrils of Empyrean grow further and ever wider, he can feel it. Ulthwe’s close proximity to the Eye of Terror has greatly enhanced his already potent divining abilities. The hands of the Great Powers have joined together, eyes gazed directly towards the upstart Mon-keigh Imperium, mouths drooling to tear it asunder.

It was then another vision struck the soon-to-be Farseer of Ulthwe. While deep in a trance stimulated by special psychedelic herbs, Eldrad finds himself amidst a vast plain of unimaginable death. Countless corpses and burning wreckage littered strewn as far as the eye could see. The sky was blotted with a torrent of suffocating pitch-black smoke originating from massive funeral pyres of murdered corpses of certain iron giants. It was then a massive but graceful serpentine monster emerged before him. It shone with an ethereal beauty, its purple hide shone brighter than the finest jewelry and it scales embellished with such baroque detail that many artists would yank their hair out in jealousy. It had four lithe arms that carried what Eldrad could describe as the “most perfect looking swords he has ever seen”.

Unlike the majority of humanity and its Space Marine Legions, Eldrad was no ignoramus to the incredible creature before. This thing was a chosen Champion/Pawn of She-who-thirsts, whose soul was entirely enslaved to the whore goddess’ whim. Its features clearly once resembled that of a human, clearly one of incredible stature and power. It was then another figure arrived, one wielding a massive hammer and covered in jet-black cuirass. The mysterious figure would then swing a blow at the large serpentine monster. Much to Eldrad’s surprise, the blow never connects with the monster but instead heads towards him.

Again, Eldrad and his mentor try to address the vision with necessary action, only for the same result to take place; inaction. It was this turning point that made Eldrad decide that he had enough of such foolishness. If the Seer council refused to intervene against the shady Chaotic activity worming its way into the Imperium, Eldrad would take matters into his own hands. He would soon find his way after the death of his mentor at the hands of a disguised Keeper of secrets and his promotion to High Farseer of Ulthwe.

Thanks to his connections with a few Harlequin troupes, Eldrad would soon learn about the compliance of the world later renamed “Caldera”. It was there Eldrad subtly shared his vision of the future to a dumbfounded Ferrus Manus as he was trapped in a secluded cavern that falsely echoed a location in the distant future. The Primarch would then encounter the same being from Eldrad’s dream and fought it briefly. As Eldrad observed the human demi-god fighting the evasive but ultimately intangible construct, he was perturbed to the fact that the creature somehow had a will of its own as noted by how the creature spoke on its own volition. It even appeared to be glancing back at him, a devious smirk on its devilish face.

Eldrad would then cease the psychic illusions and explain to Manus about how the visions he saw and how they were to occur in the near future. Manus would simply dismiss his words of warning as mere deceptive Xenos trickery and demanded the Farseer release him from this prison. Not wishing to engage in a pointless battle with the enraged demi-god, Eldrad and his forces would depart Caldera, leaving their human followers to its fate in Imperial hands.

Alas, he refused to give up. He gained valuable insight from Manus’ interaction with the serpentine creature and learned of the name “Fulgrim”, another of the human demi-gods leading the forefront of the Imperial crusade. He would encounter the Primarch Fulgrim at a later date when his Legion ventured into the system holding the invaluable Maiden worlds. The two parties would then engage in a civil discussion with Eldrad personally meeting and sharing a meal with the princely Primarch in the forests of the maiden world of Tarsus.

It was here Eldrad tried to warn the Primarch of Horus’ betrayal and the existence of the Chaos Gods. The secretly corrupted Primarch then grew furious with Eldrad’s accusations, especially deaf to mentions of She-who-thirsts. He would then unsheathe the sword Eldrad would quickly recognize the same sword carried by the monster of his dreams and realize the futility of his efforts. Fulgrim had already been spirited off into the path of damnation, the Dark Princess of Chaos already holding him in her grasp!

The loss of a famed Wraithlord, an avatar of Khaine, and all the maiden worlds in the system would forever dwell within the depths of his consciousness as one of his deepest regrets. The council would later admonish him greatly for his actions, Eldrad even receiving death threats from the fickle craftworld of Biel-tan. Eldrad was convinced that the human race and the upstart Imperium were doomed, proceeding to wash his hands off any involvement with them.

A few days later, a thought graced his mind. No, this was not the random dreams and visions most Farseers of his ilk experience but rather a simple observation that would cascade in deciding the fates of both Aeldari and Human races. After gazing at the blinding beams of the Astronomican, Eldrad soon realized just how powerful humanity’s enigmatic Emperor truly is. The psychic beacon’s light could even pierce through the Craftworld’s psychically warded shields like water seeping through the tiny cracks in a surface. He decided to then divine the future once more, a required of a task fitting one of his stature and rank.

As always Eldrad would find himself in the pitch-black void of his dreamscape. Although there was not a thing he could see, he could hear a loud crash of steel and what appeared to be crackling energy in a far off distance. He found that he could walk the invisible ground before him and headed to the source of that noise. He would then see a small speck of light in a far off distance and decided to approach. As he grew closer and closer to the source, Eldrad would hear the sound of laborious breaths and the heavy blasts of bolters ricocheting off nearly impenetrable armor.

Eldrad would then witness firsthand the final duel taking place between Warmaster Horus and the Emperor himself in the throne-room of the Vengeful Spirit. Beneath an enormous twitching eye, father and damned son fought in both planes of existence. They wielded might capable of devastating cities in a single blow, their sheer psychic presence in the Warp capable of swallowing entire stars. Horus Lupercal, the once noble paragon and most favored son of the Emperor was bloated with powers of the gods themselves. The Farseer would then recall the Emperor’s light piercing even the Craftworld’s superior psychic shielding. He would then arrive with a plausible but incredibly insane idea. The Emperor is more than capable of dueling the dark gods themselves on equal footing and is more than capable of striking back. The Emperor would then parry a powerful arcane thrust from the talon of Horus, as the duel raged ever fiercer while Imperial and traitor vessels fought each other in the background.

“That’s it! What if the Emperor were to purposely bait Horus’ mightiest psychic blow and use it to strike back at the Dark Gods, specifically the then Chaos God Slaanesh? Perhaps he could…”

“... No, perhaps that would be stretching it too far. But if the Mon-keigh Emperor were to be successful in this attempt, that would mean the salvation of my entire race! She-who-thirsts will plague no longer!”

He spent some time considering his options and the possible outcomes and consequences were he to partake in this gamble of reality-breaking proportions. Although he was reluctant to undergo this path most especially because his visions remain silent to its outcomes, he subtly convinces himself after remembering old teaching about how greater risks reap bigger rewards.

Coincidentally, as Eldrad began plotting his gambit in destroying Slaanesh, he receives reports from his agents who had been keeping tabs on the activities of an alien syndicate known as “The Cabal” and how they had recently met the equally secretive Alpha Legion. It would appear from an observer’s stance that the Alpha Legion was not convinced by the Cabal’s sinister goals and had gone to warn the Emperor about Horus’ betrayal and his fall to Chaos.

Eldrad allowed himself a sigh of relief, perhaps the Mon-keigh was not at all that naive and hopeless as he had initially believed them to be. He was soon to obtain a unique, human pawn that would greatly aid him in his secret war against the forces of Chaos: the perpetual John Grammaticus.

Ultimately, Eldrad’s deeds would result in the birth of the Galactic Imperium that would unify both Human and Eldar species underneath a single banner. His legacy amongst the many Eldar throughout the galaxy is often conflicted depending on who you’d ask. Those from Iyanden, Iybraesil, Saim-hann or his home of Ulthwe would proclaim him to be the greatest hero of their species since Eldanesh. While others such as Biel-tan, Gul’gatha, Kaelor and Alaitoc denounced him as the vilest of traitors, handing over the pride of the Aeldari under the yoke of humanity’s Emperor.

Loyalty or treachery?

The obscure and sly individual mentioned in a sparse few Imperial histories as “John Patmos Grammaticus” was a key player whose actions would indirectly influence the creation of the Galactic Imperium at the conclusion of the Horus Heresy. Born in the Caucasus region of Terra in the 29th millennium, Grammaticus fought as a soldier in a military force serving the Emperor during the great conflict known as the Unification Wars.

John would later meet the Emperor himself at a victory ceremony that saw the conclusion of the brutal Pan-pacific campaign. The Emperor, sensing his inherent psychic prowess, discussed with him the future prospects open to men such as them who possess “unique talents”. Had Grammaticus been able to attend the next meeting the Emperor had arranged, he would’ve been made into one of his greatest assets. It was entirely unknown what exactly was in store for him but some have speculated that he would’ve been made the Lord Director of the organization later known as the Imperial Intelligence.

For all his innate psychic talents, Grammaticus would meet his untimely end, after a car accident at Anatol Hive (known in ancient times as Turkey). Unbeknownst to all, the accident had been arranged by the Cabal agent Damon Prytanis in line with their insidious plans of putting a stop to Chaos. It would already be around the 31st millennium when Grammaticus was to be resurrected by his new alien masters. The first face he was to see was the zealous and condescending Autarch Slau Dha of the Craftworld Gul’gatha. The Aeldari revealed to him that he was transformed into an immortal perpetual and the Cabal had plans to place him into good use.

Like most deceptive Xenos depicted to be in Imperial propaganda, the Cabal revealed to Grammaticus the events of the Great Crusade in a harshly negative light. They showed him the vast atrocities the Emperor and his then Space Marine Legions had committed throughout the past 2000 years and this had greatly upset him. Swearing himself to the Cabal’s service, Grammaticus was then tasked with extending an olive branch to the highly secretive and often overshadowed 20th Space Marine Legion, the Alpha Legion.

The Cabal had chosen the Alpha Legion for their plan specifically due to their more liberal mindset and unsure allegiance towards the Imperium. They were a crucial and powerful force that could greatly affect the outcomes of the incoming conflict that was soon to be the Horus Heresy. Their ability to operate undetected behind the scenes would greatly hinder or strengthen either side of the conflict and the Cabal wishes to bend the legion to their own ends. Little did any of them know, the Chaos God Tzeentch had already snared the Xenos organization in his unforeseeable schemes. However, it disappointed the changer of ways when his most crucial pawn, John Grammaticus, was destined to utterly fail in his role of convincing the 20th Legion to side with Horus.

Indeed, when Grammaticus met the Primarch Alpharius Omegon after putting down the rebellion at the world of Nurth (also orchestrated by the Cabal), the meeting went poorly and the Primarch was unconvinced by the silvery words of Grammaticus and his alien masters. Like the rest of his brothers, Alpharius couldn’t believe that Horus would openly rebel against their father and plunge the galaxy under this “chaos”. 

He brushed it off as mere Xenos deception designed to turn the Legions against each other. Proclaiming Grammaticus a traitor to not only the Imperium but also to his race, the Primarch would swiftly execute him and the other Cabal delegates sent to speak with him, his fleet would then proceed to open fire on the Xenos vessels (some of which were said to be cloaked Nightwing fighters) sent to represent the deceitful alien syndicate. The Cabal would later send numerous agents to assassinate the Primarch, only to be met with false success.

The corpses of Grammaticus and the rest of his companions would then be flushed into the void of space, to rot for eternity. However, John’s immortality allowed him to merely endure the bolter round shot through his chest and would later regrow most of his lost limbs albeit painfully. Seemingly abandoned by the Cabal, the unfortunate perpetual would then psychically send a signal across the warp for help.

After drifting across the unbearably cold void for hours, a bright hole would suddenly emerge from the pitch-black void, and from it would emerge a sleek Aeldari vessel originating from the Craftworld Ulthwe. 

John’s recovery would be overseen by a female seer known as Krystilla. Handpicked by Eldrad for her experience in dealing with humans, Kyrstilla would gently persuade the puzzled perpetual in aiding Eldrad in his war against Chaos. Eldrad explained to Grammaticus that the Cabal had in fact been unknowingly tainted by Chaos and furthering their goals would only make things worse. He would then task John and Krystilla in obtaining a powerful artifact known as the Fulgurite, a task that the pair would accomplish successfully thanks to the help of the Shattered Legion consisting of Death Guard and Salamanders Astartes. John Grammaticus would later use this shard in curing the Primarch Vulkan’s insanity after having been burnt to ash in the orbit of Macragge, the Ultramarines home-world.

John's greatest feat however would be in his infiltration of the Imperial Palace on Terra. Eldrad wondered what exactly has the Emperor of mankind been doing throughout the Heresy for the past four years. The Imperium was burning, nine of his legions have turned against him and billions have died as a result. With the aid of Kyrstilla once more, John would infiltrate the Imperial palace and uncover the secret Imperial webway project that has so far been ruined by Magnus’ folly.

Had it not been for Grammaticus, Eldar and Imperial cooperation throughout the Heresy would’ve never taken place and so would’ve been the signing of the historical Pact of Terra also known as “The peace of Calastar”, in most Eldar glyph-books. Grammaticus' fate after the Heresy is unknown but it is said he was last seen alone with the Seer Krystilla in an alcove overlooking the city of Calastar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What you’re seeing here has been a project that I have been excited to make for over a few months now that I have only obtained the time to pursue thanks to this Covid-19 quarantine. I hope y’all are doing well this quarantine and have retained much productivity you previously had. I would like to thank the anonymous 4chan user in the TG board for having shared this unique premise with the community!
> 
> I doubt I would’ve had the basis for such a brilliant alternate timeline were it not for him/her. Yes, this is not an idea I made purely, it is but an adaptation of it. However, I have decided to throw in my own ideas and fluff into this series that I sincerely hope you’ll enjoy. Although the setting is STILL the Horus Heresy, I have sought to change traitor and loyalist rosters to my own preferences with revamped and head-canon backgrounds not part of the official canon. So, why the Eldar? Well, I’ve always wanted to explore how Xenos involvement in the Horus Heresy would look like and you’ll see many of it here.
> 
> Note: This same story is also posted on Fanfiction.net with my account of the exact same name, in case any of you are wondering. This story will also be updated the same time the one in F.F. does.
> 
> “While the enemies of the Emperor still draw breath, there can be no peace.”  
> Gabriel Angelos, Chapter Master of the Blood Ravens, M41


	3. Chapter 1: Leaders of Men

This fan series is dedicated to Aaron Dembski Bowden (Master of Mankind), Mark Louis Sparks (Death of hope films), and Jayfiction19 (Imperium Ascendant) for making such great contributions to the Warhammer community!

Terra, Imperial Webway Extension  
Year: 008. M31

Atop an ancient, gold-encrusted throne sat the sole and only ruler of the human race, The Emperor of Mankind. For the past three years, he alone has shouldered the tremendous burden of keeping the portal he constructed into the Webway sealed. Years ago, he had returned to Terra after electing his now treacherous son, Horus, into the position of Warmaster and supreme commander of the Great Crusade. He withdrew from the frontlines for the sole purpose of constructing his last and greatest gift for Mankind, the Imperial Webway project.

No longer must humanity endanger itself by journeying through the ever-shifting tides of the Warp or be preyed upon and devoured by the fiends that dwell there. No longer will the foul touch of Chaos hold a grip on humanity’s soul ever again. With the Webway for Mankind to freely use, no longer will they have any need of the Astronomican, psykers, and even Navigators. For once the Imperial Project Webway project is completed, the Emperor will proceed to his final step in his grand plan for the human race: To forever sever Mankind’s connection to the Warp.

All of that was to change the day Magnus arrived. The Crimson King had manifested himself through a powerful spell that shattered all the protective Wards the Emperor and Malcador had meticulously placed throughout the Imperial Palace, compromising the integrity of the Webway extension to the Warp. The idiotic Primarch had arrived bearing news about the Chaos Gods’ plan in corrupting the Legions to turn them against him and the Imperium. Unfortunately, the Emperor seemingly ignored the Primarch’s visions and berated him for his foolishness and betrayal of the Edict of Nikaea that he himself had sworn to follow.

As soon as Magnus’ astral form subsided, the Webway extension the Emperor and the Mechanicum’s Unifiers had worked so hard to build fell under the assault of vast hordes of daemons that flooded in through the punctured hole in the fabric of the Webway. Before dealing with the daemonic incursion threatening to envelop Terra, the Emperor orders Leman via his personal Astropathic choir, the Vigiles Telepathica, to venture off into Prospero to ARREST Magnus and bring him back to Terra for interrogation.

However, such a message was immediately intercepted by the ever-plotting Tzeentch and was distorted to make it appear that the Emperor had ordered Leman Russ and his Space Wolves to instead destroy him and his legion. As a result, the Space Wolves would then assault Prospero and wipe out the treacherous Thousand Sons and their Primarch much to the Emperor’s frustration.

A month later, Alpharius and elements of his Legion would arrive on Terra bearing the same grave news he had ignored from. After his failed compliance of the world of Nurth with the 670th expeditionary fleet, Alpharius had encountered a Xenos organization called “The Cabal” that had told about Horus’ corruption by this force known as “Chaos” and how the Xenos had tried to persuade the Alpha Legion to side with him through the use of a traitor agent named John Grammaticus. He explained to the Emperor about how they shared with him complex and contradicting visions about how siding with his father would doom the galaxy and how siding with Horus would ultimately save it, at the expense of the human race. Alpharius, however, was entirely unconvinced by deceitful warp magicks and had the xenos and their human agents quickly dispatched.

With the secret already known to his son, the Emperor explained everything to Alpharius and about the true, devilish nature of the warp. Alpharius was shocked that such a dangerous realm was what humanity had been using for millennia to travel the cosmos. He asked his father just why he had withheld such crucial information to him and his brothers. The Emperor answered that the knowledge would be simply too dangerous if spread out to the public. The Primarch then questioned his father if he truly trusted any of them. The Emperor responded back with only a single question:

“And when did you plan on introducing me to your twin brother, Alpharius?”

Unable to respond, the Alpha Legion primarch remained silent for the rest of the day, not wishing his Legion’s greatest secret to be revealed to all . Alpharius would normally have the politeness to introduce his twin to his father had Omegon not gone alongside his elite Effrit (Head-hunters) in infiltrating Istvaan 5.  
A day later Rogal Dorn and his gigantic Fortress Monastery, The Phalanx arrived at Luna bringing the scarred crew of The Sisypheum with him. The loyalist Iron Hands were to remain detained in Silent Sisterhood’s temple in case they possessed any signs of Chaotic taint while Dorn descended to Terra bearing the most woeful of news.

Horus Lupercal, Warmaster of the Imperium and the Emperor’s most favored son has turned against him and dragged four of his own fellow Primarchs onto the path of treachery. 

For a moment, the Emperor’s stoic appearance grimaced as he pondered the next course of action to take. He would then immediately send out an order commanding seven Legions to head to the Istvaan system and put down the rebellion and to drag the traitor Primarchs back to Terra for questioning. Secretly, the Emperor orders Alpharius to investigate the loyalty of two other legions that are currently too far away to assist in quelling Horus’ rebellion: the Ultramarines and the Dark Angels.

As Alpharius departed from Terra, he immediately handed out unique commands and messages that were to be delivered to specific individuals and operatives working secretly throughout the Imperium’s many organizations which even included a few of the Astartes Legions. These messages took the form of badges or tokens imbued with innate psychic pulses and seemingly nonsensical letters that could only be deciphered by their recipients. Whatever these “messages” contained, they would greatly aid the Imperium and the Emperor’s loyal servants in weathering the oncoming storm. 

If there was one thing the Alpha Legion Primarch truly was certain of, it was that this rebellion would not and would not end in the Istvaan System. This is why he had taken such extra measures to call on all his informants and sleeper agents embedded within the Imperium’s vast power structures.

Ultimately, the Emperor would be forced to undergo the painful ordeal of sitting at the mysterious Golden Throne to maintain careful control of the Astronomican and the integrity of his slowly deteriorating Imperial Webway project. Although it was extremely important to him to have heard so, the master of mankind was fortunately spared of the pain and anguish from the tragedy that was the Dropsite Massacre.

Seated on his throne, the Emperor of Mankind sat silently, isolated from the rest of his servants who worked tirelessly to fend off the endless onslaught of daemons making their way to the only portal to Terra. As he sat and masterfully conserved his innate Psychic energies, the man known throughout the ages by the names of Revelation, Neoth, Gilgamesh, Merlin, Herakles, Krishna, and Osiris sat in deep reflection as recalled memories both recent and ancient. A few days prior to his confinement within the Throne, he recalls a conversation with one of his closest and most trusted friends, Malcador the Sigillite. The topic was about the nature of the Warp and how it is anchored to mortal beings. 

“May I pose a question, my liege?”

“Of course, my old friend. We still possess some spare time in our hands.”

“My liege, right after hearing the news of Magnus’ folly I had begun to wonder whether it was the Warp that had birthed mortal beings or perhaps vice-versa?”

The Emperor paused and pondered a possible answer to his question.

“The Warp is something that predates my being and even Humanity by a vast magnitude. I can never for sure just how long it has been influencing the material universe but I can say that it was emotions and beliefs of mortal beings that had caused it to be so. If the antediluvian tales of the Old Ones’ war with the Necrons are to be believed then without a doubt, it was the by-product of our very existence.” 

For a moment, Malcador paused as he pondered the words of humanity’s greatest Exemplar and ruler. It was then a curious thought passed by his mind.

“If the Chaos Gods are the very embodiments of the worst emotions of we humans and those of other intelligent Xenos races, how is it that there are no beings residing in the Warp that serve as their complete opposite? Beings that in theory would manifest our greatest virtues and morals?”

The Emperor was slightly taken aback by Malcador’s question. The Warp was a cesspool of everything bad from all intelligent and rational life in the universe. The warp is entirely devoid of anything bordering the concept of “good”, much less anything in that place that can be associated with the words “god” or “deity”. It was then the long-dead Aeldari pantheon came to mind…

“Could you be referring to the former deities of the Eldar pantheon? If their legends are to be understood with any scrutiny, the bloody-handed Khaine and that Asuryan is hardly what can be considered the Chaos Gods’ opposites. Khaine is no different than Khorne, the latter only distinguishing himself by spelling. Asuryan was an incompetent leader, only intervening when after much death and destruction has soiled his mood. The Life Mother is perhaps the only being worth belonging to your descriptions.”

“ No, my Emperor. I do not refer to those deities worshipped by the Eldar. I was recalling a very ancient belief that persisted even up to the height of the Golden Age. It was a belief about a “God” that was incarnated into human flesh and sacrificed himself for the sake of Mankind’s salvation. I regret to say that I do not know of his name.”

The Emperor then paused for a shockingly long moment as he read the thoughts that dwelled within Malcador’s mind. It was then he saw it, the image of the holy sacrifice that was forever imprinted upon the human race’s subconscious. It had been so very, very long since he had seen that image and the man whom it was depicting. Mankind had indeed worshipped that man as a god for the longest ever since belief in him manifested. Although the Emperor had since destroyed the very last church that worshipped his Creed, Revelation wondered why he had never manifested in the Warp despite the untold number of humans that had worshipped him across the millennia.

It has been so long since he had last seen THAT man. It had been more than 40,000 years since he was falsely tried and executed by the very same people he preached to. Revelation had feared his power, for it made every last ounce of his psychic prowess appear like a drop in a seemingly endless ocean. He recalled how that man taught all sorts of teachings and even performed “miracles” in parties and gatherings with what appeared to be psychic powers. He even raised a man from the dead! Although he proclaimed himself a healer and a teacher of men, Revelation saw him as a danger to all who he approached. Without a doubt, he had to be removed.

Unable to do so himself due to the man’s incredible powers, he noticed he never laid a finger against those who opposed him. Thus, he bribed a greedy follower of his with thirty pieces of silver to deliver him to the authorities that so wished his death. However, his legacy and sacrifice forever remained in the hearts of his followers and those that listened to them and they built a religion as per his instructions. Perhaps Revelation was wrong to have moved against such a man whose words were of such uncanny wisdom and power so vast yet so tamed.  
“Faith can never exist without love” said the King of the Jews unto the man later known as The Emperor. Those were the very last words he had said to him after having come back to life. This is what convinced Revelation to tolerate religion for so long despite his hatred towards it.

Looking back, those words still ring true up to this very day. He then thought of his son Lorgar and how he had turned against himself, revealing his truest colors in the Dropsite massacre of Istvaan 5. Had Lorgar established that illegal religion of his because of the love he had for his father or out of a misbegotten need for something as impractical as faith?

Had the Word Bearers truly failed him or had he failed them? No, Lorgar and his legion had failed, and all the more forgotten their duties as Astartes. Lorgar, for all his extreme failures, never understood his role as a Primarch of what should have been the Imperial Heralds. He was to have been the figurehead of the Imperial Truth, not some crazed maniac preaching the falsehoods of religion! The fact that the Word Bearers had feigned their strength after his re-adjustment demonstrates just how pathetically weak they have become. Their misbegotten faith had made them weak, both in body and mind. Utterly irredeemable.

“Old friend, you ask me: does the God of the ancient texts exist in the warp? I do not know, but I don’t think he would choose that terrible place for a home.”

“Well, I suppose in the end, we ourselves and those loyal to you to depend on. If the dark powers have indeed decided to expose their existence in the galaxy, I wonder just how shall we maintain the Imperial Truth?”

The Emperor looked at the Regent of Terra silently for a brief moment as yet another problem surfaced on his mind.

“One problem at a time now, old friend. Now, has the Unspoken Protocol been activated?”

“Yes, my liege. The Black Ships now search the stars seeking as many Psykers as they can find.”

“Excellent. I shall now prepare myself for the upcoming ordeal. Tell the Captain-General and the Sisterhood to gather before the throne for a final briefing.”

As the Emperor departed to his personal chambers, he uttered to himself a silent but uplifting thought the many would be surprised to hear come from his very own lips.

“If that God really exists out there, I hope that he is on our side.”

Deep within the catacombs of the Imperial Palace’s vast sewage systems strode two unlikely individuals. Their footsteps echo silently across the murky pavement moving non-stop until they reach the end of a barred drainage pipe separating the waste section with the central maintenance tunnels often taken care of by servitors and other menials. The former Cabal Agent John Grammaticus was rather thankful the Cabal possessed a small connection in the form of an archivist who lived in Hive Tashkent who owned copies of the original layout of the Palace itself penned by the Emperor’s finest architects which included Rogal Dorn himself.

Pulling out a pen-sized portable laser-cutter, John easily made quick work of creating a human-sized hole in the pipe’s very rusty bars. Behind him is the cloaked Eldar Seer named Krystilla, one of Eldrad’s most skilled proteges back in Ulthwe. 

Originally belonging to the dangerous path of the Outcast, Krystilla spent her formative years at the forefront of her Craftworld’s first line of defense against any immediate threats that were to come. Like many of the Rangers that were to follow after her, some of her most important missions were to partake in expeditions that dangerously plunged deep into the Crone Worlds located within the vicinity of the Eye of Terror that held the Spirit-stones that Ulthwe is always in desperate need of. She would later begin manifesting her psychic prowess after her 15th expedition into Crone Worlds in which she banished a group of Slaaneshi daemonettes by uttering a word she heard from an elder Seer.

It was one of those expeditions in which she personally slew an upstart Drukhari Haemonculus who possessed a rather unique torture rack worn in a fashion similar to a back-pack. Like what other Haemonculi used, it possessed painfully sharp and serrated blades tipped with poisons and other toxins that depraved Eldar often used in torturing their unfortunate victims. However, it also possesses extra snake-like tendrils with tools whose functions extend beyond the cruel torture and masochism that the Covens are infamously fond of. These tools allowed her to easily climb jagged rock formations and harvest Spirit-stone deposits at a quicker rate than most of the machinery owned by Ulthwe. Despite her disdain towards the Dark Eldar and their abominable, Krystilla has eagerly used this psychically attuned device and even went through lengths to modify its horrid appearance to something more pleasing to the eyes. She aptly names this device “Weaver’s Tapestry” after being reminded of a cosmic serpent from Aeldari myth.

Despite possessing years of combat experience from the most dangerous area in the galaxy, Krystilla was unable to bear with the seweage’s rancid stench of the Imperial Palace’s collective waste.

“By the gods, John, have we reached the maintenance tunnels yet? The stench here is enough to incapacitate an Ork Nob.” spoke Krystilla with a vivid but distinct accent of Low Gothic

“We're a tad closer to where we need to be, Krystilla. Once we exit these maintenance tunnels, we will be able to emerge at the lower section of the Palace where the Emperor himself is rumored to be in.”

“Such a crude and inefficient waste system this place is, even more so for the most important government building in your... Imperium. It’s no wonder the rest of the world is such in a pitifully polluted state. I can hardly believe this world used to have been blue and green with its lush forests.” 

Krystilla was careful to avoid using the derogatory term Mon-keigh while she was around John. Although John didn’t seem to mind it due to him grew used to hearing it during his time with the Cabal.

The pair would eventually reach this cemented corridor leading to a decrepit maintenance shaft that would allow them easy access to central sections of the Inner Palace. After bypassing a few servitors in charge of filtering the waste and ventilation systems, the two would descend via an elevator and emerge into a large hallway leading into a huge subterranean cavern filled with all sorts of machinery that Mechanicum had installed for either logistical and geotechnical purposes. All sorts of personnel were gathered here.

Imperial palace servants, Mechanicum adepts belonging to the Unifiers, Custodians, Imperial Fists Astartes, Tech-priests, and other Imperial personnel were among those present in the vast hallway. The duo was suddenly increasingly aware of the need to watch out for a specific group of Imperial forces that could easily result in their undoing, the Silent Sisterhood.

Those sinister “psychic blanks” were the bane of any being sharing any form of connection to the Warp and are the Imperium’s greatest assets in dealing with Psykers, Daemons, and even Aeldari. John recalls meeting those iron-clad women during and after the Unification Wars, two of them personally having been sent to escort him during his first meeting with the self-proclaimed Master of mankind himself. He remembers his experience with them all too vividly as if it were some traumatic or atrocious event that forever affected his life. Their presence was like having invisible nails pierce every portion of your body from the inside out all the while rendering you unable to move properly.

For now, John and his Eldar companion were relatively safe from detection from the Imperials. Although quite a number of the Emperor’s elite Custodian guards were present, they were not too keen in the psychic arts at least to the knowledge of both operatives. This mission was a gamble they both agreed to take and was planned carefully enough to allow for any of the two to escape Terra, given the condition that any of them manage to escape the confines of the toughest bastion in the entire galaxy!

The Eldar Seer then slowly approaches her human partner to discreetly whisper to his left ear, her height a head taller than he is.

“John, I can sense two sources of incredible power from emanating from the other end of this place. The first source is undoubtedly the Emperor himself but his aura appears to be diverted elsewhere, to some powerful arcane medium I do not know of. The second is rather surprising…”

“Which is?”

“It’s a Webway portal, one massive enough to allow even a Titan to walk into! However, there seems to be a problem with it, one that requires us to investigate further.”

“So this is why the Emperor has been unable to personally deal with Horus’ rebellion in person. He’s been creating a branch to the webway here in Terra all this time! Incredible!”

Krystilla nods, causing a few strands of her purplish hair to brush alongside her pearl-white face.

“I’m appalled that you humans managed to create a branch in our Webway. There have been other races before humanity that have tried only so much as to barely scratch its surface and yet here you are, more successful than nearly all of them. I was wrong to have underestimated your species.”

John scratches the side of his head, as he heard her place a strong emphasis on the word “our". It seems despite her lenient and kind personality, Krystilla is but an Eldar. Despite the destruction of their eons-old civilization a mere 300 years ago, it appears hubris is a habit they have yet to discard. It is likely they never will.

The two then distance themselves from each other, assuming different disguises suitable to their abilities. Krystilla went through much remarkable effort to blend herself in a crowd composed entirely of humans. Her special memory-fabric cloak and the Weaver’s Tapestry, its mechandrite-like tendrils allowing the Eldar to pass herself off as this hunched and elderly female Unifier Tech-priest. 

While the Eldar woman had quite the difficulty blending it with the crowd, John was quick to take advantage of his generic looks to easily sneak alongside a strange procession of Imperial adepts marching out into the huge cavern. The adepts appeared to be carrying standards belonging to what appeared to be knight houses or Mechanicus Titan legions and marched on while uttering some chant in High Gothic that Grammaticus didn’t bother to follow, lest he draws their attention. He lifted up his hood and began marching alongside the adepts who didn’t seem to notice him. He gave one final glance towards Krystilla, carefully blended in alongside those purple-robed Tech-priests, her pseudo-tendrils floating aimlessly without so much as passing attention from those around her.

The procession would take around some twenty minutes till it finally reached the end of the subterranean cavern, where John can feel the rippling energy emanating from the vast webway gate. Its semi-psychic nature felt like a refreshing breath of wind to the psyker with a strange phantasmal sensation. The procession would ascend a large number of steps before coming directly before the vast webway portal over-shadowing what appears to be a pyramid resembling the descriptions of those that once stood in ancient Gypt. Despite covering his psychic presence with a prodigious degree, John Grammaticus still felt the overwhelming psychic of the magnificent being that sat atop the zenith of its base: The Emperor of Mankind.

John was sure that this immense aura was coming from him. The feeling caressing his soul was no different from that of the Astronomicon albeit more intense and concentrated like never before. A few beads of sweat would dampen his chest-nut brown as the pressure of the Emperor’s sublime presence which was akin to that of a volcanic eruption if it were to be seen in the chaotic tides of the warp. The amount of Tech-priests working constantly in maintaining the vast, complex machinery to maintain the arcane pyramid already serves as a testament to the sheer psychic power flowing from him.

John’s temporary retinue was ordered then towards the left of the portal in order to make way for a cohort of Castellax robots and Skiitari legionaries that appear to be hastily making their way towards the destination beyond the webway portal. The Custodes guarding the flanks of both sides of the portal makes no attempt to stop the cohort.

John then sees Krystilla alongside the other Tech-priests tailing the back end of the Cohort. She glances towards John and makes a few gestures that John immediately recognizes.

“Rendezvous with me inside. Wait for a signal.” thought John as he interpreted the gestures.

The disguised Seer then vanishes off into the portal along with the Skiitari cohort and its combat robots. John then quickly observes the scenery for any movements or individuals he can exploit. He knows he can’t make a dash towards the webway portal under the watchful eye of the peerless Custodian guard. Despite their bulky and entirely sealed golden armor, the Emperor’s Custodians are capable of swinging their weapons at speeds the human eye can barely grasp. He remembers all too clearly how a single Custodian bisected an insane gene-warrior twice their size with one swing back during the Unification Wars. 

Besides, even if John made it past the Custodians, he is entirely unsure of who could be awaiting him on the other side. He may even run into the sights of a Titan stationed to watch over the opposite side of the portal! For now, the perpetual simply had to wait for an opportunity that would allow him to enter the portal.

After waiting for some thirty minutes, a group of newcomers would arrive through the steps leading into the cavern. John’s eyes would widen with a disturbing surprise as he saw who these new individuals were.

It was them. They who he must absolutely avoid. The infamous Sisters of Silence.

A group of them emerged from the wide stairwell clad in their golden power armor crafted to suit their robust yet delicate bodies. Their power-swords are each master-crafted and suited to be easily held by their feminine frames. Each of them possesses their Order’s signature topknot ponytails that were all squeezed through a single ring atop their smooth scalps. Lastly, each of their faces was half-obscured with a vox-grill that gave them their more formal moniker: Oblivion Knights. 

John was thankful that Eldrad had gifted the unique robe that allowed him to easily mask his psychic presence from detection. However, even such a potent till can see its limits at the presence of those nulls. Where they detect his presence here in the very heart of the Emperor’s palace, he may as well become firewood for the symbolic lighthouse that is the Astronomicon.

He made sure not to generate any nervous or cautious movements while in the presence of the nulls. Each of those warrior-women has been trained to spot even the closest signs of possible psykers. John quickly contemplated any possible solutions and their outcomes to this problem. If worst comes to worst, John would need to sprint as fast as he can into the Webway portal. At least there he may have a chance at being able to escape the nulls and their acidic aura.

The Silent Sisters head towards the Custodians standing all the while eyeing the perturbed adepts, mindless servitors, and focused tech-priests that enter within their zone of “null-presence”. One of the nulls gazes directly at John’s retinue for a brief moment before passing her gaze into the golden armored men in front of them.

One of the Silent Sisters, clearly of a distinguished senior ranking as seen from the long Imperial purple cape and jewel-studded gorget went and “spoke” to the Custodian in the special “Thought Mark” sign language that only those closest to the Emperor can understand. John would slowly creep his way towards the webway portal, the standard bearing adepts paying no attention with a strange and somewhat zealous discipline.

It was then the glare of one of the Oblivion Knights lands upon John’s area, the Pariah suspiciously scanning every single person present towards the left of the portal. John quickly falters back amongst the ranks of the banner team.

Hopefully, the Pariah hasn’t noticed him yet!

Thankfully a sudden command reaches them via their built-in vox devices in their armor distracting them to allow John a small window of opportunity. Their backs turned, John slowly detached himself from his banner team as he crept towards the portal.

Suddenly a voice from amongst the banner team catches his attention.

“You there! Adept! Where is your standard? I did not command you to break formation!”

John shoots a quick look at a robed Sacristan with distinguished marking denoting his rank amongst this group of standard-bearers. The older man scowled with a hint of irritants at John’s supposed disobedience towards his command. The other men and women amongst the banner team proceed to shoot him strange looks as they came to the realization that they don’t know him.

His cover blown, John made a quick dash towards the webway portal as he vaulted up the edge of the few stairs that led to a blue whirling mass of unknown energy. The banner team then begins causing a commotion that catches the attention of the Custodians and Silent Sisters a few meters away from the portal. The Custodians quickly responded by bringing down their bolter embedded guardian spears and instantly aimed towards John’s direction. However, John’s ability was akin to the level of an Athlete was quick enough to dive into the portal before any of the bolter rounds reached his body.

John emerged through the portal with his face about to collide upon the floor’s white pavement. It was thanks to his agile reflexes that he was able to roll away from obtaining a small injury. As he rose up from the floor, John was immediately greeted by the sight of an incredible city with dazzling architecture studded with gems and shaped of the most non-euclidean geometry. It was a breathtaking site that John struggled to view properly without scratching his eyes every so often. The city’s impossible dimensions alongside its unfathomable 360 degrees layout would be entirely disorienting for the human to view without the aid of the proper technology. Thankfully John’s innate nature as a psyker allowed him to re-adjust his sight to carefully process the city’s nauseating surroundings. 

The city was recognizably an Eldar one, the entirety of all its buildings and architecture are entirely made with the unique pitch white material known as wraithbone. Its tall spires adorned heavily with embellishments and finicky designs that only the Eldar are capable of crafting. Entire archways and towers are also decorated with huge, radiant gems of varying colors that are so characteristic of the Eldar race. He could only just imagine the excitement and joy on Krystilla’s face when she first entered through the portal alongside that Martian Cohort.

Not wishing to tarry any longer, John would then enter the city aboard a servitor manned air transport s pre-programmed to drop him off at a nearby encampment in the city. As he departed on the aircraft, John would see the minuscule forms of both the Custodians and Silent Sisters emerge from the portal. Thankfully, none of the trans-humans bothered to fire towards his craft. Instead, they began to contact any of their brethren in the city with orders to hunt him down.

It was then John received a homing signal in his data-slate coming from none other than Seer Krystilla. The rendezvous point was located in an area located directly in front of what appeared to be the city’s central plaza. The city appeared itself to be in a somewhat stable condition, the ageless construction the Eldar had perfected over the millions of years of their existence is something not to take lightly.   
As he looked out the window, it appears the city’s original Xenos inhabitants have long since abandoned their home for some unknown reason already lost to the annals of history. Although the city itself has remained empty and desolate long before the rise of the Imperium, the city is visually in a good condition thanks to its warp-borne material for it showed little to no signs of decay. Although, it can be argued that the Martian Mechanicum’s crude installations throughout the city can very much be considered a blemish to its former grandeur.

However, an overt mystery still persists in John’s mind.

“Just what has been causing all that commotion back in the Imperial Palace? Why were so many people there in a hurry? Could it be perhaps-”

It was then the aircraft in which Grammaticus rode in began experiencing unusual turbulence as he found himself struggling to remain in his seat. 

“Turbulence? Here in the Webway? No that’s impossible, this place shouldn’t have any form of weather---”

It was then he saw a horrific nearly indescribably figure covered in a red, serrated smoke attach itself on the aircraft’s left wing through a window.

“Oh. That explains it.”

A warp-fiend devouring the aircraft’s primary wing rotors. This is not going to end well. Gotta think of something fast...

“ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS. THE AIRCRAFT IS CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING FLIGHT TURBULENCE. PLEASE BEGIN INITIATING THE NECESSARY EMERGENCY LANDING PROTOCOLS.”

“It’s not flighted turbulence I’m afraid. A crash landing would be the least of our worries here... ”

John could only be so grateful for the psychic hood gifted to him by Eldrad. Had he not possessed such an item, he may as well have become the daemon’s next meal. Rising up from his seat, Grammaticus quickly makes his way to the ship’s cockpit with his potent laspistol. 

He quickly unlocks the door and observes the lobotomized servitor attached to the very console of the aircraft with dozens of cables and wires that allow it to easily interface with the plane’s machine spirit.

“Please remain on your seat for the remainder of the flight and initiate emergency landing protocols as stated on the flight manual, Passenger no. 2-10045.”

John then notices a grav-chute pack behind the seat beside the pilot servitor and picks it up.

“Well, uh... Good on your landing, whatever your name was.”

“Please return to your seat, entering the pilot’s cockpit is a violation of Imp-”

A sudden surge of warp energy begins enveloping the servitor and the ships’ complicated machinery, causing John to stumble backward out of the cockpit in surprise. The aircraft’s vox-grills then crackle to life with an incomprehensible, bellowing screech coming from none other than the daemon itself.

John immediately runs for the main entrance door, pulling the emergency lever to force itself to open. Thankfully the daemon hadn’t gained full control of the vessel before he made his escape.

Due to the Webway’s unique semi-psychic nature, the Webway’s air resistance appears to be sorely lacking causing John to fall towards the surface at a shockingly fast speed. He then presses a button to activate the grave-chute’s thrusters around some 400 meters above the surface. He glances back at the aircraft he was in earlier and notices that its now tainted body marked with bulbous eyes and writhing tentacles.

The possessed vessel then flies directly over a concealed Imperial position and gets incinerated by multiple concealed lascannons. Meanwhile, John hovers down safely towards a desolate avenue that probably served as a marketplace of sorts during the city’s golden days. Now, naught but dust and discarded scraps of clothing and other worthless material remain. It’s a complete and total ghost town in this section of the city, begging the question as to the fate of the Aeldari that once populated its still grand spires.

Pulling out his data-slate once more, John begins making his way to the rendezvous point to meet up with Krystilla. John emerges from a corner leading towards an empty plaza filled with the remains of smashed statues and the dead husks of ancient trees that withered away due to the absence of their caretakers. The slate’s GPS-like system told John that he was very close to where she was now, around some fifty meters away in a dilapidated building with a single, tall spire.

As he closes his distance to the building, Krystilla looks at a small window and waves towards him, signaling him to hurry up before quickly vanishing from sight. 

After climbing some stairs John enters through a draped doorway into a wide living room complete with all the belongings of the former Aeldari inhabitants. Vases, rugs, colorful chalices and lavish rugs and a couch carved directly into the building’s ivory wraithbone could be found in that place. Krystilla is there waiting for him, her supple fingers gently stroking a small palm sized figurine depicting an eldar couple engaging in an intimate romantic gesture. Its craftsmanship was exquisite, its soft texture was pleasant to hold and wonderful to behold. When viewed closely, the two lovers appeared to be kissing each other, the man gently cupping the head of his lady in a manner akin to the ancient Terran myth of Cupid and Psyche. 

An inscription on the bottom of the figurine reads: “To Alarielle, my immortal beloved. May the prosperity of the cosmos be blessed with you.”

A memento of lost days for wishing upon a brighter dawn that was to never, ever come.

Whatever happened to the couple that lived here is a mystery even she could only guess. Perhaps the human Imperium could be blamed for their disappearance, their blatant disregard for anything they consider different from themselves but the lack of evidence as well as corpses say otherwise. She would then return the figurine back to the cupboard before turning her attention towards the panting human operative before her.

The Seer would then gently return the ancient figurine to the shelf it had been originally left in.

“Did something happen to you? Were you followed?” said Krystilla with a tone of concern.

“Hahhhh… It’s nothing just ran into a few life-threatening situations but really, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“So I presume you understand the situation we’re in, John?” She gestured towards the balcony and the fierce battle raging in the distance, the crackle of bolters, las-fire, and the explosiveTitan salvos permeating the background.

“Understood completely. The Imperium is in a lot of deep.”

A puzzled look emerges on the taller woman’s face as she crosses both her arms together.

“I don’t understand what that human expression means but I’ll assume it means they’re in big trouble. I don’t know for sure what blunder caused all of this, but this blunder may very well be the last mistake the Imperium is going to make. It’s no wonder the human Emperor is stuck in that abominable device.”

John would then take a seat on the couch to catch his breath. He would then pull out a small jug of water and take a sip from it.

“So, Krystilla, what’s the name of this city, and what happened to all of the Aeldari who lived here?”

The Seer would then lift her hood, revealing her long and purplish hair and take a seat adjacent to him. The pointed ears characteristic of her species reflects a pearl smoothness much like her equally pristine, pale skin. She would then take a seat adjacent to John, exposing a portion of her slender figure normally concealed by her grayish robes.

“This city… was called Calastar. This city, built around 150,000 years ago, served as a vital hub for the production of wraithbone materials to be delivered to exploratory Craftworlds that traveled beyond the boundaries of the old empire. At its prime, it was a center of many of my people’s greatest artisans and became one of the empire’s greatest cities, surpassing even Commoragh in value. At some point, it was even able to declare its own independence from the Throneworld, prior to the great fall.”

“Well, that certainly explains why it looks so luxurious.”

“As for its people… I do not know of what became of them, for I cannot find a single spirit-stone nor corpse to tell. Normally, I would blame the Imperium for their disappearance and deaths but it seems this had already been abandoned long before they made their crude extension here.” replied Krystilla with a sour and bitter tone.

“I also find it atrocious with what those ugly machine-men did to the city’s priceless buildings with their… defiled machinery. Truly unforgivable.”

Grammaticus giggles at her statement.

Krystilla frowns slightly. “Pardon me, did I just say something funny?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I mean apart from you literally disguising yourself as one of those Martians, you actually look like one of them, thanks to those tentacles of yours. How ironically cute of you to say!”

Krystilla’s face would suddenly flush into a peachy red, and turn her face away awkwardly. Suddenly, a sharp tendril would thrust itself forward, only stopping right before it reaches John’s face. John would reflexively lean backward and flick the tendril away in surprise.

“You dare compare me and my Weaver’s Tapestry to those polluted apes! Me, the pupil of the esteemed High Farseer Eldrad Ulthran!” ranted Krystilla as she crawled her way to the sunken form of her human companion.

“Uh, hey, Krystilla it was just a jo-”

“Y-you take that back, human! H-h-how dare you to describe of me with such an obscene name!”

The expression of Krystilla’s face was nothing like her semi-serious tone. Although she appears to be irritated and mad about John’s comment, it is as though she isn’t entirely offended with what he said but rather nervous or for the lack of a better word, shy.

“ W-what is with you? Put that thing away!” said John nervously.

“Not until you apologize to me, human!” said Krystilla as she blushed intensely and jabbed a finger at him for emphasis.

“A-alright, I-I am sorry!”

“Hmph.” She then stood up and walked towards the balcony once more, arms crossed again. 

What an idiotic, Mon’keigh! How dare he call me that label! I-it’s not like I like him or anything…

She then pulls out an Aeldari equivalent of binoculars and zooms in at the non-stop battle happening outside. The Titans of the Legio Ignatum (consisting of Scout and Reaver Titans) and their gigantic and heavy frames are bombarding hordes upon hordes of daemons that are constantly stuttering in and out of existence. Entrenched and fortified Imperial positions unleash heavy bolter and Volkite fire upon numerous traitor legionnaires rampaging throughout the outskirts of the city. Mechanicum Castellan battle robots pummel demons and corrupted Imperial vehicles alike. 

Lastly, she sees a group of the golden armored giants as well as a squad of Oblivion Knights masterfully slaying droves upon droves of fanged demons and traitor Astartes alike. One of the Custodes, a Tribune by the name of Ra Endymion, bisects a line of three Sons of Horus Astartes with his guardian spear and instantly fires a bolter round that directly hits the face of a purpled armored legionary in a left-hand corner. It seems a portion of the Imperium’s strongest troops has been stationed here as she initially predicted.

“So, getting back on track. It appears the forces of Chaos have the Imperium insidiously pincered on two fronts, keeping the Emperor pinned down long enough for Horus and his traitor legions to arrive and deal the final blow on Terra. Is there any way we can stop Chaos at this front?”

“That huge hole in the fabric of the Webway is a dire problem. The wards separating the Warp from the Webway have been shattered by an incredibly powerful spell and an infinite deal of outright stupidity. I hope the human emperor has already dealt with the moron that did this, whoever they are. However, there still is an opportunity for us to patch up that huge tear.”

“Us? How do you plan to fix that?” asked Grammaticus.

“Not just the two of us alone, silly. We need to get Farseer Eldrad and the bulk of Ulthwe’s war hosts here with as many Seers we can bring as possible. This is an extremely dire problem, but not an impossible one. We’re going to need to cooperate with the Imperials if we’re going to pull this off.”

Cooperation. Hearing that word roll out of Krystilla’s tongue was shocking for John to say the least. The Aeldari, despite having been rendered broken by their fall some 300 years ago, are from the least proud race in this ravaged galaxy. Just how will they convince the Craftworlds to aid the xenophobic Imperium, who has all but desired their extinction since the dawn of the Great Crusade? It would be foolish to forget that the may entirely refuse the aid from traitors, much less the very same Xenos they sought to annihilate.

“Your silence tells me that you’re wondering just how will we convince Ulthwe the Imperium to unite against a common foe, is that right.”

John briefly clears his throat. 

“Yes.”

Krystilla smirks confidently. “Worry not. The Farseer has made a plan of sorts. A very huge and dangerous plan that could reap a wonderfully impossible reward. I trust his judgment in this despite the insane odds of failure, for he is the greatest of Farseers our species has had since the days of the fall.”

“Well then, I believe it is time for us to have our leave.”

As the duo made their way outside the building, they were appalled to see an entire battalion of Skiitari warriors waiting outside for them, their rifles aimed at every inch of their body. The Skiitari do not so much as flinch from their positions, waiting for the two operatives to make a move. Krystilla then began chanting a mantra that would summon a miniature psychic-storm that would disorient a large number of them.

“Wait a moment please.” said an aged, mechanically augmented voice. 

It was then an aged with a white beard man wearing formal Martian attire that emerged from the back of the rank and file of the Skiitari warriors. At his left shoulder sits his favorite mechanical pet, a self-titled “psyber monkey”. John would quickly gesture towards the Seer to stand down.

“ My greetings, I am Magos Dominus Arkhan Land, an archaeologist, and researcher of lost technologies. I have been observing you two ever since our cogitators had documented your presence upon entering this city. Consider yourselves fortunate that it was I who will be arresting you and not the Custodian guard or the Silent Sisterhood. Under normal circumstances, I would have the two of you executed here on this spot but our current predicament demands otherwise. Now, won’t you two introduce yourself to us? ”

John would look at the Seer for a short moment before she responded at him with a nod.

“I am John Grammaticus, formerly of the Caucasian Levvies, a former mercenary group that fought with the Emperor’s army during the Unification Wars. I am a Psyker and now an agent of the Craftworld Ulthwe.”

“Over here…” John continued.

“... Is Seer Krystilla Eldeer, also from Craftworld Ulthwe.”

The old man rubs his bearded chin gently as he carefully contemplated his next action.

“So a traitor and a Xenos working together deep within the heart of the Omnissiah’s greatest work. By all means, having made it this far is a truly impressive feat. For now, I shall overlook your trespass into this domain granted that you assist us in our ongoing battle. Do we have an agreement?”

John explains the situation to Krystilla in the Aeldari tongue, who then begrudgingly agreed to what the Magos had said to them. She shoots the aged man a look of contempt before he orders the Skiitari to stand down.

“Alright. Now follow us, we have need of your abilities, specifically to that belonging to this Eldar woman right here. I have a need for her and her psychic abilities to reactivate this city’s inert Guardian constructs. It pains me to say this but even my most reliable instruments have all but failed in stirring them to life. Perhaps the xeno-woman can fare better.”

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Krystilla is a TSUNDERE.
> 
> The first arc in this series is called the "Calastar siege-arc" which is based directly from Bowden's novel "Master of Mankind: War in the webway". In case any of you are interested in further reading, I suggest you grab a copy of this and give it a read! It's a very enjoyable yet heart-breaking story.


End file.
